


A Daffodil, A Dragon, And An Elf

by DragonGirl87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Costumes, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Plans For The Future, Prompt Fic, Romance, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Sassy Harry Potter, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22254322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: Once upon a time, Narcissa Malfoy indulged her son with a Muggle dragon costume. In secret and with the help of Dobby, the elf. She may have also taken a photograph to remember.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 314
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	1. October 1982, Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

> When I came across this prompt in the Drarry Facebook group, I simply had to find a bit of time to write this lovely piece of fluff. I didn't expect it to end up quite this long, but I really have no regrets.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
> Selly

* * *

* * *

The moment Dobby apparated into in her husband’s study, surreptitiously creeping around Lucius’ oversized mahogany desk, Narcissa attention was broken.

She smiled at her husband, dropped her arms to her sides and motioned for Dobby to leave.

The elf crooked his head sideways and regarded her with a strange look in his saucer-sized eyes.

Narcissa could have sworn that he was smirking at her.

She dismissed that thought as nonsense and turned her head back to look at her husband, forcing a sweet, and rather fake, smile to curl around her scarlet-red lips.

“Fascinating, dear,” she said, with a singsong voice.

Lucius frowned.

“Were you even―”

“Yes, of course, dear,” Narcissa interrupted her husband before he lost himself in yet another one of his speeches about this, that, or the other.

She hastily rounded his desk, and placing a hand on top of his, she stood on the tips of her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his smooth pale cheek.

“Absolutely fascinating, darling,” she whispered, then withdrew to tell her husband that she simply had to check on their son.

Lucius’ brow furrowed even further.

“We have elves for―”

Narcissa smiled.

“Yes, naturally, we do, dear, but the heir of the Malfoy line deserves to have his mother fawning over him, don’t you think, darling?”

Lucius’ expression softened a little.

“I have to go out. The Ministry―”

“Yes, you do that, dear, I trust your judgement.”

Narcissa expertly charmed her husband with another false smile, and practically ran from Lucius’ study. When he tried telling her that he mightn’t be back in time for supper, she merely waved her hand and smoothly reassured him that as the Master of Malfoy Manor, he was a free man and could come and go as he pleased.

The moment the heavy wooden doors to her husband’s sanctum fell closed, she exhaled, then gathered up her skirts and dashed down the corridor, through the entrance hall and up the grand staircase. She slowed when she reached the gallery, curtly nodded at the various members of Lucius’ family, looking down at her from their portraits, and with her head held up high, she graciously and soundlessly glided over the thick dark-green carpet beneath her feet. She climbed another set of flights and found Dobby waiting for her at the top.

He had a most curious expression on his face, and Narcissa rushed past him in her haste to get to Draco’s room.

“Have you got it?” she hissed.

“Certainly, Mistress.”

Dobby smiled at her, then bowed low, so low in fact, that his large, long ears, touched the floor.

Narcissa clicked her tongue, tsking at the elf.

“Where is it then?” she asked with mild impatience.

Dobby snapped his fingers and offered her the item; she’d asked him to fetch from a speciality shop in the heart of Muggle London, threatening to free him from his services if he as much as breathed a word about her request to another living soul. The intimidating remark had been terrifying enough to ensure Dobby’s utmost discretion.

“Dobby, for the love of Salazar, you imbecile!”

Annoyed that he’d procured the item in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could see it, Narcissa snatched the child-sized green-and-yellow dragon costume from Dobby’s grasp and made a beeline for Draco’s room. She pulled the door open strode inside, and drawing her wand, she threw several non-verbal locking charms at the door, then called out to her son, who sat on the floor, in the centre of his massive bedroom, and was busy playing with a large assortment of magical building blocks.

At the familiar sound of her voice, Draco immediately looked up and his face lid up. His silvery-grey eyes sparkled with joy and with a loud and delighted squeal, he hastily scrambled to his feet, and ran over to her.

“Mother! Mother! Mother!”

Crouching down, Narcissa opened her arms wide and welcomed her pride and joy.

She hugged him tightly and smothered him with kisses, then tickled him until he laughed and squirmed in her embrace, trying his hardest to wriggle away from her.

Narcissa paused her attack and wrapping her arms around Draco, she stood, lifting him up.

“My sweet little boy,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Mummy loves you very much.”

“I love you too, Mummy.”

Draco wound his little arms around her neck, and when he gave her a slobbery kiss, Narcissa welled up but swallowed past the lump in her throat and instead of allowing herself to get overly emotional, she hugged her precious boy a little tighter and ruffled his soft, blond hair.

“Tell me, my sweet little dragon, would you like a present? Mummy got you a little surprise.”

Draco’s high-pitched squeal of pure excitement made Narcissa’s ears ring, but she ignored it.

She knelt on the floor, and putting her son down; she showed him the beautiful, hand-sewn dragon costume, Dobby had helped her to acquire.

“Still want to be a dragon, sweetheart?” she asked.

Draco’s eyes widened, and he stared at the costume for a full five seconds ― the longest she’d ever seen him hold out before reaching for a present. She didn’t blame him for his inability to show any sort of restraint or patience. He was only two, after all. Lucius disagreed, but Narcissa had long since mastered the art of ignoring anything and everything he said. It went in her left ear and out her right ear ― it was the only way of coping with his constant rants about the wizarding world.

“Mummy, mummy, mummy, I want to put it on now!”

Draco demanded her full attention and abandoning any and all thoughts about her husband, Narcissa focused on him.

“Yes, of course, darling,” she said with a smile.

It took a good ten minutes before she’d managed to wrestle Draco out of his tailormade little suit, mainly because he was trying to help but in doing so was actually being more unhelpful than helpful ― she didn’t have the heart to reprimand him and demand that he should keep still.

Once she’d stripped him down to his undershirt and pants, it took another fifteen minutes to wrangle him into the dragon costume and work out how to do it up. In the end, she had to ask Dobby for help to inform her that she simply had to pull up the zipper and be done with it. She frowned at him, then let him do it for her, and once that was done, she sat back, looked at her son, and smiled.

Draco’s tiny face was the only part of his body that was still visible; everything else was hidden by the costume. Narcissa reached out and tugged on his little tail, and Draco squealed and spun around. His dragon wings flapped, and he grinned from ear to ear.

“Mummy, I’m a dragon!” he said excitedly.

Narcissa smiled.

“Yes, dear, you’re my pretty green little dragon.”

Draco took a step forward, put his costume-clad tiny hands on her face and smiled.

“I keep you safe, Mummy.”

Narcissa blinked furiously.

“No, sweetheart, that’s my job. I’ll keep you safe, always. I promise you.”

Draco pouted but didn’t object.

Still sat on the floor of his room, Narcissa pulled him into her lap and wrapped her arms around her son.

“My fierce little dragon,” she whispered and shed a few silent tears. “Mummy loves you very much, my precious boy.”

Draco giggled into her chest, and turning her head, Narcissa looked at Dobby, who hadn’t disappeared from the room yet but hadn’t said anything either.

“Quick, find me a camera. I want to take a picture,” she told him.

Dobby nodded, bowed, and disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

Less than two minutes later, he returned with Lucius’ camera and handed it to her.

It took Narcissa a moment or two to find out how it worked, but once she had, she positioned Draco and snapped a photo of her green-and-yellow little dragon boy. She then handed Dobby the camera, informed him that he was to get the photograph developed immediately and return it to her, including the negative. She also made sure to let him know exactly what she would do if he ever told Lucius about any of this.

He nodded meekly, accepted the camera from her and disappeared from her son’s room.

* * *

* * *


	2. 23 Years Later, Sometime In 2005, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London

* * *

* * *

“Oh, come on, Malfoy, don’t be such a prude. You’ve seen all my embarrassing childhood photographs.”

Draco swirled around, and simultaneously drawing his wand and pushing Harry up against the kitchen counter, he used his own body weight to hold him in place, then grabbed a fistful of Harry’s scarlet Auror robes. He pressed the tip of his hawthorn wand against Harry’s jugular and glared hard.

“Potter,” he growled, “if you ever ask me such complete nonsense again, I promise you, I will fucking hex your balls to the moon. For the absolute last time, I have never ever worn a Muggle dragon costume, are we clear?”

Draco found Harry’s smirk somewhat unnerving, but he decided not to rise to the bait. Instead, he tried his best to keep his cool, though it took a very deep breath and several seconds of holding said breath inside him to achieve that goal.

“We are crystal-clear, but I do have one more question before I’m ready to drop this conversation for good.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and dug his wand deeper into Harry’s neck, pleased when his boyfriend winced.

“Potter!” he snarled warningly into the small space between them.

Harry seemed entirely unperturbed by the fact that Draco had him at wand point and Draco cursed Harry’s idiotic Gryffindor bravery, as well as his lack of boundaries and the day he’d fallen head over heels in love with this twat, to the ends of the earth.

“Why does your mother keep telling me that she’s got a photo of your dressed as a dragon?”

Draco forced himself to swallow his annoyance, and stepping away from Harry, he sheathed his wand and reached for this cup of strong Earl Grey. He brought the delicate china up to his lips and took a few careful sips from the hot beverage, letting it warm his insides, then answered Harry’s question with as much calm composure as he could muster.

“My mother, Harry, is an ageing woman, you know that as well as I do. She is completely and utterly delusional, and I expect that she’s had a bit too much sherry at her bridge club recently. I can assure you; she’s probably heard a similar story from one of the other ladies, got confused and ended up thinking it was me.”

Harry smiled.

The strange glint in his green eyes told Draco that Harry didn’t believe a single word of what Draco had just told him and biting back a sigh, Draco held Harry’s gaze with a defiant stare, goading him into saying anything else. His wand hand twitched and keeping his eyes fixed on Harry, he took yet another sip of his tea and waited.

After a minute, Harry pushed himself away from the counter, straightened his robes and walked over to him.

Much to Draco’s surprise and mild shock, Harry leant in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I best get to the Ministry, or I’ll miss the morning briefing. The Chosen One or not, Robards will have my arse.”

Draco clicked his tongue, and with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, he dropped one hand and cupped Harry’s arse through his uniform. He squeezed it firmly and delighted in the way Harry momentarily closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip to stop the moan, that was on the tip of his tongue, from escaping.

Draco lowered his voice down to a husky drawl; one that, as he knew from previous experience, was powerful enough to send a zap of his magic shooting down Harry’ spine.

“Your arse belongs to me, Potter. I’m the only one who gets to have it.”

Harry let out a small groan and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Circe, Draco, don’t.”

Draco chuckled.

“Don’t what, Potter? Don’t send you to work with a raging fucking hard-on you won’t be able to do anything about and one I might not do anything about either, given your horrid behaviour these last few weeks?”

Harry blinked, and Draco could tell that it was taking him every last ounce of effort to keep his eyes open and his knees from buckling.

He squeezed Harry’s arse again, this time a little more firmly.

“Mine, Potter, understood?”

Harry whimpered.

“Understood,” he breathed.

Draco smirked, then gave Harry’s arse a playful smack.

“Wonderful, now off you go to your important meeting. If you’re good and get home on time, I might even let you persuade me to do something about that growing problem in your pants.”

Harry looked at him with pleading eyes and from under lowered lashes, then stuck out his bottom lip.

Draco laughed.

“Save it for your fans, Golden Boy,” he said.

Harry’s reaction to his words hadn’t exactly left him unaffected, but he was Slytherin enough not to give himself away and therefore keep the upper hand.

“You’re cruel, Malfoy.”

Draco threw his head back and laughed even harder.

“I’ll show you cruel tonight, Potter, just you wait. Tonight, I’ll have you on your knees, begging for mercy. Now, shoo.”

Harry took a deep breath and straightened himself up.

“I don’t beg,” he said, trying his hardest to keep his voice even and neutral instead of gravelly and with a needy undertone.

Draco crooked an eyebrow at him and smirked.

“Is that so, Potter?” he asked, looking at his boyfriend over the rim of his exquisite porcelain cup.

Harry ground his teeth together and glowered at him but said nothing else. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance and with his Auror robes billowing behind him.

“Have a wonderful day, my love,” Draco called after him, giving his voice a nauseatingly sweet edge.

In response, something or other scattered to pieces in the hallway and a moment later, Draco heard the roar of the living room fireplace, then Harry was gone, and he was alone in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Harry’s inherited Georgian-style London townhouse.

Draco savoured his tea in silence, and drawing his wand, he lazily flicked it at the kitchen table, and with a few non-verbal spells, he cleaned up the leftovers of his and Harry’s breakfast, then made his way upstairs to continue the monumental task of redecorating the house.

* * *

* * *


	3. 5 Years Later, 2010, A Beautiful Victorian Villa Somewhere In Hampshire

* * *

* * *

The familiar sound of an owl’s sharp beak knocking against the kitchen window broke Harry’s concentration and glancing up from the case file; he’d opened up next to his coffee, he stood up, crossed the kitchen, and opened the window.

“Who wrote?” Draco asked without lowering the Prophet, which obscured his entire face.

Harry petted the familiar and regal-looking brown eagle owl softly, and in response to his affections, it hooted, then extended its foot to offer him a letter.

He detached the correspondence, and wandlessly summoning a jar of owl treats, he offered Aaralyn a few.

She picked them out of his hand, careful not to injure him with her beak, then nudged him gently with her head and after giving her another pet, she turned and flew away, disappearing into the distance.

Harry turned around and casually leaning back against the kitchen counter; he inspected the elegant envelope with its familiar writing.

It was addressed to him.

Narcissa Malfoy had written to him, specifically.

Unsure what to make of it, he continued to toy with the unopened envelope, admiring his mother-in-law’s refined handwriting. It was slanted, just like Draco’s, with long, even, and sure quill strokes.

Harry was about to break the red Malfoy seal when Draco rustled the morning paper, and lowered it, fixing him with a poisonous glare.

“Potter, I asked you a question.”

Harry looked at his husband and smiled.

“Huh?”

Draco’s expression darkened considerably, and Harry briefly thought about whether or not he should duck down to evade a wandless stinging hex, but abandoned the idea when Draco made a conscious effort to keep his cool.

“Who wrote?” he asked.

There was a bit of a bite to his voice, but all things considered, Harry had to applaud him for his ability to control his temper.

“Your mother,” he replied.

Draco arched an eyebrow and extended a hand.

“Give it here then.”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s not for you, she wrote to me.”

Draco frowned.

“Why?”

Harry shrugged.

“Beats me,” he said.

He honestly had no idea why Narcissa Malfoy had written to him.

Sure, they were on good terms, and yes, he and Draco were married now, had been for the last three years, but the only time he usually interacted with his mother-in-law was whenever he and Draco travelled to France over the summer to spent a few days at Château D’Malfoy.

“Well, open it then.”

Upon Draco’s urging, Harry broke the seal and opened the envelope, then pulled out a small, crisp white card, and unfolded it. Something old with yellow-tinted edges fell out and sailed to the ground. Harry stopped its fall with a lazy flick of his hand, which earned him an eyebrow from his husband.

“Show-off,” he hissed.

Harry gave him a lopsided grin, and summoned the strange aged paper into his outstretched hand, then looked at the card. It only had three words written on it.

_Love from Mother_

Harry shuddered a little at the idea that Narcissa thought of him as her second son.

Holding on to the old paper, he flicked his hand, and the white card sailed over to Draco, who plucked it out of the air and inspected it, then arched an eyebrow at it.

“She wrote … nothing?” he said.

Harry grinned.

“Three words,” he said.

He turned the old square paper around and promptly choked on his own spit, coughing up half a lung.

“Fucking hell, Potter, it’s a bit early for those shenanigans,” Draco reprimanded him but rose to his feet, walked over to him and firmly patted him on the back.

Harry forced out a raspy ‘thanks’, then glanced back at down at the photograph, Narcissa had sent him and smirked.

“Oh my, Draco, this is precious,” he said, rapidly regaining his composure.

“What?”

Draco craned his neck to try and see, but Harry twisted the photograph so that his husband was unable to see the actual photo.

“Interesting, very interesting.”

He noted, out of the corner of one eye, that Draco had crossed his arms over his chest and looked rather upset.

“Potter,” he said with a warning undertone in his voice.

Harry took another glance at the photo, and his smirk grew tenfold.

“How much do you love me?” he asked.

Draco frowned and fixed him with a dark glower.

“What kind of idiotic question is that, Potter? We’re married.”

Harry shrugged.

“Tell me, anyway.”

Draco growled and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.

Harry chuckled.

“Your mother … She sent me … Well, let’s just say, the Prophet would pay at least a million galleons to run this as a cover story.”

Despite his pale skin, Draco’s blanched and his eyes widened.

“She didn’t,” he whispered.

With a devilish grin curling around the edges of his mouth, Harry nodded.

“Oh, but she did.”

Draco shook his head.

He paled a little further.

“Potter…” he whispered. “Harry.”

Harry pointedly slipped the photograph into the breast pocket of his button-up shirt and patted it with his hand.

“How much?” he asked.

Draco’s jaw dropped.

“You fuck―”

“Tsk.”

Harry clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Language, my love.”

Draco snapped his mouth shut and glared at him.

“How much?” Harry asked again.

Draco’s bottom lip trembled slightly, though not because he was about to burst into tears but rather because he was a nervous wreck and Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Too much,” he whispered. “Too damn much, Potter.”

“Bit more specific, my love,” Harry said, deliberately continuing to tease his husband.

Draco swallowed, and Harry watched him curl both hands into tight fists.

“You know I love you,” Draco breathed the words into the small space between them.

Harry nodded.

“I do, I just like hearing you say it sometime. You look cu―”

Draco shook his head.

“Potter, do not finish that sentence, I swear, if you value your life, do not.”

Harry laughed.

He pulled the photograph out of his pocket and turned it so that Draco could see it, but pulled it out of Draco’s reach when his husband attempted to take it from him.

“Nuh-huh,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “That’s the only copy, and you’re not burning it.”

Draco glowered darkly.

“I absolutely will.”

“Nope,” Harry said. “I’m keeping this.”

He paused to take another look.

“Fuck, Malfoy, you were adorable.”

Draco gasped and took a step back.

He pressed the palm of his right hand to his heart and looked positively horror-stricken.

“Potter…”

Harry crooked his head sideways and smiled.

“What?” he asked, with a lopsided grin.

“You didn’t,” Draco murmured.

Harry chuckled.

“I so did. Get over yourself already; you dressed in a Muggle dragon costume is the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my entire life, Malfoy. Your mother deserves an award. From today on, she’s my favourite woman.”

Draco, unable to find the right words, and rendered speechless for the very first time in his life, simply stared at him.

Harry smiled, and reaching out; he pulled Draco into his arms.

“Come here, my cute little menacing dragon,” he whispered.

That seemed to do the trick because Draco narrowed his eyes and fixed him with a death glare.

“Potter. Give. Me. That. Photograph. You. Absolute. Fucking Wanker.”

Harry smiled and instead of complying with Draco’s demand, he kissed him but pulled away when Draco bit him.

“Ow, whatever was that for?”

“Give me the photograph,” Draco repeated, his voice nothing more but an angry growl.

Harry shook his head.

“No, I’m framing this, and I’ll put in in my office.”

“I’ll take it.”

Harry laughed.

“You won’t, I’ve been an Auror long enough now, I know a couple of curses to hex the damn thing with.”

Draco growled.

“Wanker,” he hissed.

Harry snorted.

“I only wank when you ask me to, you’re the one who likes to watch me get myself off.”

Draco’s cheeks pinked slightly and running his fingers through Draco’s soft, platinum-blond hair, Harry curled his finger into it and rested them at the back of Draco’s neck, then pulled him in. Draco resisted him for a few seconds, then grudgingly surrendered.

Harry wrapped his arms around his husband and enveloped him in a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to Draco’s ear.

“Seriously, you are fucking adorable, Draco. I love you and this photo so much.”

Draco sighed against his shoulder.

“I’ll empty one of the vaults, all contents go to a charity of your choice,” he mumbled.

Harry laughed.

“No fucking way. There isn’t enough money in the world to pay for how much I love this photograph.”

Draco pulled away and looked at him with a strange sort of expression on his face. Harry couldn’t quite interpret it. It was an odd mix of annoyance, disbelief, love, and frustration.

A few minutes of silence passed, then Draco sighed and shrugged.

“Fine, keep it,” he said quietly.

Harry smiled and wordlessly pulled Draco into another hug, then kissed him with a fiery passion which he allowed to bubble up from the depths of his stomach.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy,” he whispered, somewhat out of breath, afterwards.

Draco flushed and gave him a shy smile.

“I love you too, you menace.”

Harry kissed him again, and this time Draco finally wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pressed into him. Harry tightened his hold on his husband, and after a few minutes of lazy snogging, they pulled away, and Harry cupped Draco’s cheek and caressed it tenderly with the tip of his thumb.

“Perhaps, in a few years, we could buy one for our son?” he asked sheepishly.

Draco’s eyes widened.

“Son?” he breathed.

Harry nodded.

“You want―?”

Harry nodded again.

Draco exhaled and briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again and fixed them on him. This time, his silvery-grey eyes were crystal-clear. They were full of love; in fact, there was so much love in them that Harry’s chest felt all tight as his heart swelled inside it. His eyes burnt with unshed tears but he stubbornly blinked them away and forced himself to smile.

“I gave up on that idea a long time ago, Potter,” Draco whispered.

Harry huffed out a breath of warm air.

He shook his head.

“I didn’t,” he confessed.

Draco smiled at him.

“It would be― I’d like it if―”

Harry silenced him with a kiss.

“One day, Draco,” he murmured against his husband’s lips.

“One day,” Draco affirmed, then closed his eyes and buried his face deep in the crook of Harry’s neck.

Harry felt the wetness of Draco’s tears but didn’t say anything.

Instead, he hugged Draco tighter, held him closer.

“I love you; you’ll make a brilliant dad.”

Draco laughed into his neck.

“Daft prick.”

“Cute menacing dragon.”

“Fuck you, Potter.”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh.

“Yes, please,” he said.

Draco straightened up, dried his eyes, then raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

Harry grinned.

“Or do you have more pressing matters to attend to besides shagging your husband six ways to Sunday?”

Draco’s eyes darkened considerably.

“I did have plans―” he said, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Harry chuckled.

“But?” he asked.

“I just cancelled them,” Draco said with a devilish smirk.

He grabbed his wrist and dragged Harry from the kitchen and up the stairs into their bedroom.

* * *

* * *


End file.
